18. The Eye of the Storm
WESLEY
This hadto be what heartbreak felt like. Mr. Hendricks was going to die and there wasn’t shit I could do about that. All the money in the world couldn’t make him better, nor could it make Celeste hurt any less. It couldn’t make me hurt any less, for that matter. Doug had been more like a father to me in the past two years than my own father had been since conception. He encouraged me to be a better person, guiding me towards good choices, but never once lost faith in me when I lost faith in everyone. I owed him so much that a few hospital bills felt paltry in comparison.
The only brief spark of joy I found in this moment was that he immediately turned to Celeste, not Desiree. His fiancé looked somewhat stunned at this turn of events, no doubt calculating her next step of revenge. It was obvious from a mile away that Desiree viewed Celeste as a threat, not a daughter, and right now it was clear why. At the end of the day, if it really came down to it, Doug would always choose his daughter over her, always put his daughter first, and a woman as jealous and shallow as Desiree couldn’t stand it. She needed attention like fish needed water.
Nana stepped up to the hospital bed and took Mr. Hendricks’ hand in her own. “Let’s hear the doctor out. There’s always hope, like the Good Lord says. This is a time for prayer and faith.”
Celeste turned towards Nana, her back to Desiree, and added her hand over their clasped hold. “We’ll get through this together,” she whispered tearfully. Her poor face was blotchy and tear-stained.
Turning slightly, Nana shot me a look over her shoulder. “C’mon over here, Wesley! You gotta do your part now, too, since you got us into this fancy joint!”
Doug and Celeste both let out a watery chuckle as I joined them, adding my hand to the pile. These people right here. This was my family.
I wrapped my other arm around Celeste and pulled her into the crook of my arm, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll do anything I can,” I promised, looking Mr. Hendricks in the eye. “For all of you.”
Desiree sniffed dramatically, and it was clear from the way the four of us jumped that we had all momentarily forgotten her presence.
“Isn’t this just a little picture?” she sneered. “I guess it doesn’t matter that I’m your future wife, Doug!”
Mr. Hendricks sighed heavily and leaned forward to place a hearty kiss on her cheek. “Of course it does, sweetheart! I love you!”
Her eyes flashed dangerously. “And yet you didn’t turn to me at all! Can’t you imagine how this feels for me, Doug? The perfect wedding I was planning is now up in smoke! It’s so unfair!”
The bitch had brass balls, I’d give her that. Imagine being told that your fiancée was dying from a brain tumor and being more concerned with the wedding you’d have to cancel. I wasn’t sure how Mr. Hendricks could stomach having her in the same room, let alone offer her comfort like he was trying to do now. Desiree continued her crocodile teared, woe-is-me act, so I pulled Celeste away from the pair of them and crushed her to my chest.
She clutched to my shirt like a lifeline as I stroked her hair and murmured assurances in her ear that everything would be okay in the end. It was an empty promise because how the hell did I know how anything would turn out, but I felt better offering it to her all the same.
Nana came to stand beside us, gently rubbing Celeste’s shoulder as she cried into my shirt. It took mere seconds for the front to feel wet, but I didn’t care. If all I could be in this second for her was a snot rag, so be it.
After several tense minutes, all of the tears in the room ran dry. Desiree’s pouting apparently made her ruin her make up and she shuffled into the bathroom to fix it. Celeste drew back from me, hastily wiping her face with the back of her hand, and nodded when Nana asked her for assistance in locating the doctor out in the hall. That left Mr. Hendricks and myself alone in the room together.
He eyed me wearily. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all this,” Mr. Hendricks said quietly.
I shook my head, trying to ignore the burning in my chest. “You’ll never have to, Doug. I’m just so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”
As much as I hated them, my own tears began to fall. I quickly brushed them away with my shoulder, turning to look out the window in hopes of hiding my emotional turmoil from him.
“Just keep your promise to me from the other morning,” Mr. Hendricks reminded me. “That girl is my whole world. That’s how you can thank me.”
I nodded. He didn’t ever have to worry about that from me.
“Well now!” Desiree loudly burst into the room from the bathroom, with a fresh coat of red lipstick and a calm expression. “It’s time to plan ahead!”
Once the doctor returned, things started happening in hyper speed. Dr. Hassan explained that tumor’s location effected Mr. Hendricks impulse control and emotions (I tried so hard not to glance at the ring on Desiree’s finger), but it was starting to branch out into other areas of his brain. The doctor’s main concern was a part of the tumor that could potentially take away Mr. Hendricks’ eyesight. He wanted to begin an aggressive combination of Tumor Treating Fields therapy and chemotherapy before attempting the surgical route because of the size and location of the tumor. The hospital needed to monitor its growth closely, so Dr. Hassan advised it would be best for Doug to remain hospitalized for the time being while receiving treatment.
After an hour long discussion where the doctor used a series of computer renderings and videos to explain the treatment plan, Mr. Hendricks signed off on everything and shook Dr. Hassan’s hand in thanks. The doctor paused at the doorway, awkwardly shuffling the tablet in his hands.
“You may also want to consult with an attorney,” Dr. Hassan advised. “Patients often wait until it’s too late and their lucidity becomes an issue.” With a final nod, he swept from the room.
Nana shot Mr. Hendricks a stern look. “Before we do that, we need to figure out what’s gonna happen with these youngin’s while you’re up here getting treatment. Can’t have them failin’ school ‘cause of you.”
Desiree immediately drew herself up to her full height. “I need to take Celeste home to chaperone her. We can’t just let her run around with a teenage boy unsupervised.”
“And leave your beloved fiancé here fighting cancer by himself?” I asked, filling my voice with alarm. I knew she would take the bait and I was handsomely rewarded when Desiree paled and glanced at Doug in a panic.
“Yeah,” Nana chimed in next to me, no doubt catching on, “sounds kinda fishy, Desiree. Wouldn’t you want to stay by your man’s side as he fights for his life?” She gave me a wink so fast that I might have imagined it.
Desiree’s mouth open and closed as the gears in her head tried to work through her predicament. Did she want to play the role of loving bride-to-be or doting stepmother more?
Doug rubbed a hand over his eyes as though the conversation pained him. “Suzanne, would you be alright staying with Celeste back home? I know that’s asking a lot, but I’m not sure that it’s Desiree’s place to mind my daughter like that.”
“Darling—” Desiree started to protest, but Nana beat her to it.
“Celeste is my own flesh and blood! Of course I’m gonna do right by her!” She huffed at the suggestion she would do anything less.
He looked over to Desiree, the question clear in his eyes. “Des, are you gonna stay here with me or do you need to go back for Hillary and Jeremy? You’re their mama first and foremost.” It sickened me to see the uncertainty on his face as he asked the woman he pledged to marry to stand by his side.
For her part, Desiree still looked torn, weighing her options between what she wanted most. It was a calculated move because she needed to ensure she kept Mr. Hendricks roped in while also ensuring Hillary stayed right under my nose.
“I’ll call and see if my ex’s folks can keep Jeremy and Hillary a little while longer,” she finally said. “But we are absolutely getting a lawyer in here first thing, Doug Hendricks! There’s so much to consider in all this!”
He nodded gratefully and drew her hand up for a kiss.
“But what about what I want?” Celeste asked hysterically. Her voice was in the shrill octave I only ever heard her use once before when Desiree found us in bed together. “I’m not leaving you, Daddy!”
“Sugar bee,” he replied softly, “you have to. We need to focus on your schooling and your future.”
“No!” she sobbed, throwing herself back in his arms. “What if I leave and don’t get to say good-bye to you?!”
The sound of her sobs drew tears from my own eyes. It was sheer agony to witness someone I loved in so much pain, let alone a pain I couldn’t stop. There was no happy ending to this scenario, only a hope that she would come out okay on the other side. Given how early Celeste’s mother left her, it made perfect sense to me why she would be afraid to leave her dad for even a bathroom break.
“I’ll fly us up here every weekend,” I found myself offering. It was an insane thing to promise because my father used his jet all the time and it was pure luck that it had been available earlier today. Flying commercial wasn’t nearly as fast or comfortable, but if I had to buy tickets from Savannah Express every weekend, I certainly would without batting an eye. “And we can be here for any surgeries or scheduled procedures. That way you don’t miss any of the important stuff.”
Celeste sniffled. “Really? You promise?”
I couldn’t help but smile at her. “For my whole life.”
Her face crinkled into a watery smile in return before rounding on her father and pointing a finger in his face. “I want to be notified of everything!” she warned him. “I’ll call Willow five times a day for updates if you try to get on the phone and tell me everything’s fine. You can’t brush this off, Daddy. I won’t let you.”
Doug chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose you will. Might as well buckle down and get you a cell phone, too, while we’re at it. Suzanne, think you can handle that for me? That way I can call y’all at the drop of a hat.”
Nana nodded. “As long as I don’t have to finagle with the damn thing,” she muttered.
“I’ll go make the arrangements for us to fly home,” I offered.
Stepping out into the hall, I let out a shaky exhale. Today was fast becoming the world’s curviest emotional rollercoaster and I was ready to get off the damn thing. Going back to River’s Run without Desiree would definitely help. Nana would never keep me and Celeste apart, that much I knew. For all the hassle she gave me in the beginning, I was pretty sure Nana was one of my biggest supporters.
Phillip answered on the first ring. “Your father is back in town,” he said, “and he wants to have dinner with you and your girlfriend tonight.”
Fuck.
“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea, Phillip,” I groaned. “We found out her dad has an incurable brain tumor. Kinda bad timing. Why don’t you add it to his calendar a year from now and see if he remembers?”
“He means it, Wesley,” Phillip countered, lowering his voice. “He’s already made a call to Montmeri today to see if they have a room available.”
“Damn it!” I kicked the wall next to me in frustration, creating a small dent in the drywall. “Fine. Have the car pick us up in an hour.”
“You got it, boss.” The phone clicked and I kicked again. The hole was definitely noticeable now, but they could add it to the fucking bill. Now if I could only figure out a way to explain this to Celeste without her freaking out over a meal with my old man.
And that’s exactly what she did. She frantically ran to the bathroom to try and smooth down her hair, lamenting over the fact that she hadn’t borrowed any makeup from Maggie or brought a nice dress. I offered to buy her a dress on the way there and she almost bit my head off.
“I’m not asking you to buy me stuff, Wesley! I want your dad to like me!”
I didn’t bother telling her no dress in the world had that kind of magic. If my dad could barely tolerate me, there was no way he would ever like my choice in partner.
Celeste gave her father a tearful goodbye, swearing up and down to return Friday night, before I gave him a firm hug. He felt so fragile in my arms, which was the polar opposite of my impression of him, that I had a sudden urge to stay. If something were to happen with Mr. Hendricks before Celeste had a chance to make it back here, I could never forgive myself. Nana followed us a minute later, asking if it would be too much trouble for the driver to take her to the airport to wait. Although she didn’t say it, I strongly suspected she was just as eager to get away from Desiree as I was.
The ride to the restaurant was tense with only the periodic snap of my neck to break the silence as I tried to force myself to relax. I was on high alert, too suspicious of my father’s unusual dinner invitation to focus on Celeste in the seat beside me. She hadn’t said a word, not that I blamed her, merely looking out the window with her arms crossed over her chest. I knew I should be saying something to comfort her, but it was hard to give something I couldn’t feel at the moment.
As always, Benedict Madden the Third chose one of the swankiest restaurants in downtown Atlanta, Magnifique. The driver dropped us off at the door to a white gloved doorman and I thought Celeste was going to have a stroke from how loudly she sputtered. Guests were exiting the place in crisp suits and sparkly cocktail dresses, and I knew her well enough to know she deeply regretted blowing off my offer to stop and buy her a dress.
I, however, could not care less. It was so second nature to me to arrive at these types of places in ripped jeans and crumpled shirts just to piss off my dad that I didn’t hesitate to grab her hand and drag her inside. Another doorman scampered forward to hold open the door, but I brushed him aside to open it for Celeste.
My poor girl looked like she had been through the ringer and then some. Her face was ghostly white, with dark circles under her eyes. Sleep would probably avoid her for a good long while now that she had a cancerous tumor to worry over at night. Her clothes were clean, but very clearly from the bargain bin at Madden Markets, something that might make a normal businessman proud but would only make my father snort in derision. If you didn’t have money, you weren’t worth his time, and nothing was going to change his mind.
Yet another attendant stepped forward to politely inform me of Magnifique’s strict dress code. “I am so sorry, sir,” the man said, his French accent heavy. “You and your guest are not permitted here.”
His condescension made me want to strangle him. However, I would never embarrass Celeste in that manner, so I settled on smirking at the poor fool. He was about to be toast.
“I am the son of Benedict Madden,” I replied in flawless French, “He will not take kindly to you insulting me, so unless you prefer to be unemployed after tonight, you’ll take us to his table.”
The man visibly shuddered. He waved over another host, whispering something in his ear that caused the host to beam at us and grandly sweep us forward.
“You speak French, too?” Celeste whispered. She was clutching my arm, out of support or nerves, I wasn’t sure.
I shrugged. “A few things were bound to stick from my other schools.”
The host led us to a private booth in a separate lounge of the restaurant. All of the tables here were far more intimate, with candlelight on each linen tablecloth and heavy curtains surrounding each booth. My father was the only person seated in this particular area, which was probably intentional, but gave me an impending sense of dread. Judging by Celeste’s hard gulp next to me, she sensed it, too.
“Father,” I greeted him as we drew up to his table. A gentleman would have stood up to welcome the new guests to his table, but I could already tell my father’s rage was simmering just below the surface. Maybe I did inherit something from him after all.
Rather than responding, he shot a pointed look at the seat across from him. I guided Celeste in first, scared she would be ordered to leave if I let her sit on the end. She was practically trembling under the disdainful look he gave her and I had to sit on my free hand to stop myself from smacking him across his pompous face. My other arm wrapped around her shoulders, drawing Celeste as close to me as possible. My father read into the gesture, casting a furious gaze where our bodies connected, before turning his hateful black eyes on me.
“So my assistant tells me there’s been a substantial sum deposited to two different hospitals in my name today,” he began. “Care to explain, Wesley?”
I rolled my eyes. His version of a “substantial” sum was probably barely one fifth of one percent of his wealth, something he would make back by the end of the night tonight.
“It’s…it’s my fault, sir,” replied Celeste, her voice small. “My daddy is real sick.”
The way his expression changed at her words had me justifying a prison jumpsuit for a few seconds. “And—you are?” he demanded coldly.
She glanced at me, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m Celeste Hendricks, sir. We met at The Comfy Cushion down in River’s Run a couple years ago.”
My father snorted and didn’t acknowledge a word she said. Turning back to me, he fumed, “There’s better pussy out there, Wesley! I’d expect you to know that by now. Fuck her and move on with your life! I’m not paying millions of dollars for you to get your dick wet.”
Pain flared across my knuckles as my arm snapped back. Blood from my father’s mouth coated my hand before I could think about what I had done. My chest was so tight I could barely breathe. “Don’t. Ever. Speak. About. Her. Again.” I pronounced each word as distinctly as possible, my voice like ice.
Two of my father’s bodyguards stepped forward, their black sunglasses shielding their faces. I knew both of them carried guns and neither would hesitate to use them, even on me. My father didn’t give two shits what happened to me. He stood up, wiping the blood from his mouth and glowering at me.
“This ends now, boy,” Father growled. “I’ve indulged your bullshit long enough.”
“The money can come out of my trust, which is money you and I both know you can’t take away,” I replied coolly. “Mr. Hendricks has taken care of me for two years now and is the only adult who has ever cared about me. I will help him for as long as I need to.” I dared my father to contradict me, but he didn’t comment.
“And what will I get in return for paying for all this?” he countered instead.
It threw me for a loop. Father had never negotiated with me before. “What do you want?”
“You to start acting in a way that reflects on the Madden name. Earn your place in this business,” Father replied instantly.
Because it was always about the business. His bottom line never went beyond that. I ceased to be a person as soon as he had to write the first check for my care. I resented him more in that moment than I ever had in my life.
“Fine.” As much as I wanted to stab a stake directly into his cold, dead heart, it would never outweigh my desire to take care of the girl beside me. A girl who I realized too late was absolutely petrified right now.
“We’re leaving now,” I snapped, grabbing Celeste by the elbow. “See ya around, Benny.”
Moving faster than was socially acceptable, I pushed past the ma?tre d’ and kicked open the door to the restaurant before the doorman had a chance to get there. Celeste panted half a step behind me, struggling to keep up as I all but dragged her out to the sidewalk.
“Get me a taxi, stat!” I shouted at the valet. It would take too long to call my driver and by this time of night, it could be hours before he made it back from the airport. What a rookie mistake not to have another on standby for when shit hit the fan with my dad. It was never a matter of if, but when.
“Wesley, you just punched your father!” Celeste yelped.
“Sure did.”
“In the face!” she protested.
“I was there.”
“Wesley!” She gave my arm a good shake, forcing me to stop and look at her, green eyes wide with anxiety.
It was enough to douse the flames roaring inside of me. I slumped forward, all the adrenaline draining from me, and pulled her into a tight hug. Apologizing would be a lie because I wasn’t sorry, but I hated that she had to witness something so ugly when she was already going through Hell.
“Next time I’ll make sure you leave the room first,” I decided.
She giggled into my neck, and just like that, we were both lost in our laughter. I doubled over, clutching my side, as she dropped onto the sidewalk. Her giggles were so deep, they led to snorts, which had us laughing all over again. Strangers passing by were blatantly gawking at us and the valet came over to offer assistance.
I waved him off with another laugh. “Just the taxi, please.”
It was so good to see a smiling Celeste looking up at me that I temporarily forgot about the world around us. Her dad’s illness, the stepmother from the Black Lagoon, my father’s crazy ultimatums—what did any of it matter? We had each other, and in that moment, that was more than enough.
Pulling her up from the sidewalk, I couldn’t help but remind her, “I love you.”
She stood on tiptoe to press her lips to mine, which was the best response she could have given me.